5/5

Firstly, no; listen to me – if there’s one thing I won’t do it’s to come on primates. Now I’m as broadminded as the next man, if you’re standing next to Alastair Darling anyway, and I simply won’t do it, I tell you. It’s a filthy practice. I wouldn’t even do that for my doctor. Honestly, I haven’t been this incandescent with rage since those dirty monkeys in Dexy’s Midnight Runners tried to insist I come on Eileen. I mean I barely know the woman!

Anyway, stupid nonsense such as that my brain generates on a near constant basis sending me squirreling to the edge of my sanity aside, “Come On Primates” as it transpires, is the second record from Frog Pocket (is that a slang term for a wizard’s sleeve or hairy purse, mewonders?). And Frog Pocket, lavatories and ginbuckets, is absolutely bloody YOO-KNEEQ.

Imagine Aphex Twin mashing it up with the instrumentalists from Clannad, add in a bit of bongos, half a pill, cook on gas mark 3 for 45 minutes, take away the number you first thought of, invert it, invest it, invent it, taste it, add a bit of salt and three piles of organic donkey turds, and swallow your mother. That won’t give you any idea what Frog Pocket sound like, but making you imagine it actually gave me the horn.

OK, I stand by the 71 characters (with spaces) of that previous paragraph. Just. But Frog Pocket are worth more than a comparison to anyone else’s music, which should more than anything else I could possibly write make you genuinely excited about this record. I mean, who the fuck wants to listen to things that all sound the same all the time anyway???

Frog Pocket are capable of inspiring the invention of 3D glasses, or jurrasic cake, or alphabets, or goldfish. Quite simply, contemplating how to clearly explain it to you has turned my brain into mice and feathers, my curtains are now gymnastic, and my flute’s a geography.